Welcome to Rivendell
by LaurielS
Summary: Ever wondered why it was Lindir who greeted Gandalf and his merry travellers? (Sets in The Hobbit; features a special little guest)


**Welcome to Rivendell**

Author's note: So. I've been rewatching the Rivendell scene in the hobbit again and again, and the whole situation just seemed too comical... so I decided to give a little backstory to it. Bit of parody, you've been warned.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, except my own ideas.

 **Welcome to Rivendell**

Glorfindel, Elrond and Erestor sat around a round table, eyebrows furrowed, seemingly concentrating on something important. In truth, however…

"Glorfindel, I cannot, for my life, understand what you are writing," Erestor commented after looking through a scroll he was holding.

"See! I TOLD you, Glorfindel, your handwriting is absolutely illegible!" came Elrond's indignant voice.

"Not only that, the tenses!" Erestor blurted out, "The tenses are all—"

"That's because YOU asked me to translate it into ancient Dwarvish—" came Glorfindel's protest.

"Ancient Dwarvish is simple—"

"Yeah, so is aiming a dagger and not missing the target! You nearly killed me, Erestor!"

"I'll show you 'not missing the target' you—"

"Erm…my lords?"

The three of them froze, Erestor's fist just about an inch away from Glorfindel's face. Clearly, they had been too busy arguing to notice a knock on the door.

With that, Elrond gave a cough and recovered his composure as the other two attempted to do the same. "Yes, Lethiron?"

"My Lord, a pack of wargs has been seen near the borders."

"How many?" Glorfindel asked quickly, the sharpness in his eyes returning.

The messenger gave an inward sigh of relief as his three bosses returned back to their usual composed self. He looked at the three pairs of eyes trained on him and answered dutifully, "about thirty, sir! And sir…?"

Glorfindel gulped. Lethiron had seen wars throughout his lifetime, and for him to be this hesitant… it was not a good thing.

Glorfindel took a deep breath.

"…Yes?"

"Mithrandir was spotted sir."

"What?!" now it was Erestor's turn to perk up, "Why haven't we received any news from him before?"

 _Rooms. Dinners. Meetings. All unorganised._

His thoughts were rudely cut off as the messenger continued, "He is with 13 dwarves and… and what appears to be a Halfling, my lords."

Silence.

Elrond thought he could see Erestor's temple throbbing, and Erestor looked like he could faint any time soon. The quill in his hand also seemed to be in danger of snapping.

"Thank you, Lethiron. Let us know if anything develops," Elrond dismissed him in a very calm manner.

"Yes, my lord."

As soon as Lethiron left, the noble quill gave up and snapped. Elrond groaned; this is the twentieth quill in this year.

"That's it I'm leaving," said Erestor, as he packed up the scrolls, "I don't get paid enough for this."

"Excuse me?" came Elrond's rather indignant voice. He pays his employees very fairly, thank you very much.

"You can't leave!" cried Glorfindel. _Or I'll have to do this._

"Yes, I can and I am right now."

"Erestor, stop," commanded Elrond, authority ringing in his voice as Erestor started to go, "I need you to be here. Mithrandir may bring strange travellers, but they will have an important role in the course of history, and I need someone to welcome them."

"Important role or not, there are not enough rooms ready, and the cooks have not been notified. We don't have the resources to—wait, what do you mean 'need someone to welcome them'? You're not…"

"Yes I am."

"No!" shouted both Glorfindel and Erestor immediately. Elrond winced and rubbed his ears.

"Elrond, you're the lord of Rivendell; you cannot go and meet the orcs! What if you get killed?"

Elrond looked affronted, his hand twitching ominously. "I can fight, you know."

 _Anyway,_ he thought, _I am not going to be here when Erestor goes into his full frantic The-rooms-are-not-perfect mode._

"No, and that's final Elrond," said Glorfindel the Balrog-slayer, "it is most foolish to risk your life like this."

Erestor nodded.

Elrond gave a sigh.

Before proceeding to whack Glorfindel on the head.

 _And that's for saying I can't fight,_ he thought satisfyingly. It felt good to know that his skills from Second Age still remained.

Erestor gasped and valiantly tried to catch his friend before he fell senseless on the ground. Elrond looked at him and smiled, sending chills down Erestor's spine.

"I trust you will not attempt to stop me?"

Erestor gulped. "N-No, my Lord."

"Good," came Elrond's voice as he exited the room, his robe swishing majestically behind him.

Erestor sighed.

* * *

Elrond was long gone now, and Erestor was taking stock of all the administrative things. Unfortunately for him, his room, unlike Elrond's, was not sound proof, and the highly distracting lyrics to the Tra-la-lally song came floating in.

His temple throbbed. This is all Lindir's fault.

He is definitely going to pay for this.

The song went on and on, until a child's voice joined in, somewhat out of tune.

Erestor winced. Heir or not, this child needs to be trained in singing before his eardrums burst.

Just then, said child could be heard stopping in front of his door, still singing, and now also pacing.

Erestor rubbed his temples. "Estel, come in and stop pacing outside."

The boy outside gave a small squeal, and the door opened to reveal a small boy, about 10 years of age. He peeked in with a wide grin on his face.

"Erestor!"

"Yes Estel?"

"We have visitors! Can I go and greet Mithrandir?"

Erestor's eyes widened. They took the shortcut! "They are here already?"

The child nodded.

There is no way he is going to meet Mithrandir and his merry band of travellers. And dwarves, no less! Did Mithrandir not know about the rift between the two species?

But Elrond had said a representative should give a warm welcome to the guests, so someone of authority is needed to meet the group and take care of their wellbeing. And it will not be him.

 _He didn't say of what authority though…_ At that thought, Erestor smiled the identical one Elrond had flashed after rendering 'the great Glorfindel (sic)' (still) senseless. Estel took the tiniest of step backwards.

"Estel, please call Lindir here." Upon hearing that whatever plans Erestor had in mind was not directed at him, Estel gave a relieved sigh and sped off.

Lindir, the _head of minstrels._

Definitely someone of authority.

 _And once they are in Rivendell_ , he thought gleefully, _he will be out of his rooms, in a remote corner in Rivendell which not even Elrond knew of, leaving Lindir to deal with whatever that might happen as he sipped Miruvor and looked at the stars._

Revenge is always sweet. And more wine is always welcomed.

- **End-** (probably)

Reviews and comments are highly appreciated!


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